


A Case

by nausicaa82



Series: Thundershield Prompts [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Cliche, M/M, Mystery, Organized Crime, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa82/pseuds/nausicaa82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From prompt: Detective/film noir AU. "The moment he stepped into my office, I knew this beautiful man was trouble..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The moment he stepped into my office, I knew this beautiful man was trouble with a capital T. It was clear from the way he dressed that he wasn’t from my dirty and corrupt neighborhood. His dark navy suit was a different cut and his bright red pocket square was like a beacon on the shore during a storm, cutting through the oppressive fog. He obviously had money enough that he could have gone to a investigator a little more well connected than I was.

"I need you," the man started in a thick accent without so much as a ‘how do you do.’ European, northern I guessed by his build and the long reddish-blond hair tied behind him. "I’m in need of you desperately."

It was a plea as sweet as a bird’s song, and if the man had pressed it to a platter, he would have been top of the charts with Rudy Vallee. Hell, I would've bought a copy and played it until the needle had worn away the grooves only to then to buy another.

"I know I got a sweet face, but I think you’re confused, pally. Madam Frost’s is two buildings over; got plenty of nice girls there," I paused for a moment when his eyes narrowed slightly. "And some not so nice girls if that’s more your style." He shook his head and stepped closer to my desk. 

"I am not looking for a girl, but a man. Coulson said you were the best at finding the missing."

"He did, did he?" I motioned for the chair in front of my desk, and the man sat down to start his story. His brother had been gone for two weeks, left the family mansion late one night. Even with the way the fella talked, I could read between the lines that his brother was the black sheep of their little clan. The father suspected he had eloped off with a flapper he would go dancing with, but the man sitting in my office eying my glass didn’t think that was the case.

"Would you like a little something?"

"Scotch?"

"Man after my own heart," I flippantly answered. His eyes flicked away from me quickly, and I lost myself for a moment, swallowed thinking maybe he was. I went to the cart and poured him a few fingers worth, more than I would normally give, but he looked like he needed it more than any soul I’d ever seen. He downed the whole pour in one go while I sat back down. Then he looked at me with stormy blue eyes shinning.

"I think it has been something more foul."

"How foul?"

"Well, he ran with a rough crowd."

Of course. The only reason anyone was ever here in my office instead of a slicker P.I. like Stark’s was because he wouldn’t touch a case that even had a whiff of the mob. This one was already reeking of it. By habit I ran my hand over my left shoulder that still got sore when the wind got cold.

"How rough?"

"The Chitauri."

I downed the rest of my drink at that. There were worse crime families out there, but not many.

"Listen, your brother—"

"IS everything to me! Please, Detective Rogers; I’ll do anything to find him again."

"Chitauri don’t leave bodies to find." He paled a bit, but took a breath and charged on. 

"I know he’s still alive. I’ll pay double what you normally charge." Business had been slow, and I wasn’t sure how I was gonna pay rent the next month, but I still shook my head to talk him back. 

"I'm tellin ya if it’s been two weeks, they’ll be nothing for me to do."

"Please," the man leaned in closer over the desk. "Anything you want, and I will make it yours. We have to try." His voice was so desperate. A life time ago, I had people in my life who were like family, and I understood the want— no, the need deep in the gut— to protect them, to bring them back from danger.

"Fine, I’ll try. Tell me more about your brother— everything you know about his connection with The Chitauri, the clip joints he went to, what he liked, what he didn’t like, this dancing dame, all of it. Then I’ll start tomorrow."

" _We’ll_ start tomorrow," he corrected, but I immediately started shaking my head.

"No, no, no. I don’t work with a partner." Not anymore, not after what happened to Bucky. The images from that night still danced in my head whenever I tried to catch some shuteye. "It’s too dangerous for someone like you."

"You don’t know what I’m like."

"You’re right; I don’t, but I know me, and—"

"I will pay you five times your rate and all expenses. I'm hard-boiled; I know how to handle myself. I’m coming with you." The money was really too good now to refuse. And if he wanted to pay for an escort and a little guidance on a wild goose chase, at least I could do it and try to keep him safe. 

"Fine, but I still don’t even know your name."

"Donald Blake," he said and had such a beautiful relieved smile on his face that I couldn’t help but smile back. Without any doubt I knew, he was trouble with a capital T.


	2. Chapter 2

The city that summer had been hot and sticky, and even when the sun had fallen behind the tall buildings to the west, my office would still be an oven for hours later. After another drink, my Trouble finally opened up and talked more freely about his brother— of his favorite gin joint The Edda, of his love of the ponies down at the track, and of his little flame: Siggy with golden hair.

He had paused only to ask if he could take off his jacket. I laughed and looked down at my own bare arms, sleeves rolled up, and lose tie then back up to the inquiring man across from me.

"I don’t care two licks if you wanna take off your hat and jack—" The words died in my throat as now without the wool and only in the sweat soaked shirt, Blake’s large frame was proved to be hard muscle, not soft dough like the other butter and egg men I’d met before.

"You certainly are hard-boiled, ain’t ya?"

"Have to be in my line of work."

"Which is…?"

"I work for my father, construction," he said with a strained smile and a little tersely. I placed my pencil down from taking notes and cracked my knuckles, tried to lighten the mood that had gone heavy in a matter of a moment.

"Well, swingin’ a hammer has certainly done you well." I smiled at him and he was still for a time that made me rethink taking the case, but then broke into his own laughter and continued on about his brother.

It took more concentration that I’d ever care to admit after that to follow Blake’s ramblings. His voice was deep and commanding even through his accent, but his soft lips were giving orders for attention as well. I needed something more to do with my hands than just write before one found its way to the ache I was starting to develop under my desk.

"Lemme see the picture."

"Picture?"

"Of your brother," I clarified. I needed a focal point that wasn’t the man in front of me, something that was a distraction and could calm me back down.

"I don’t have one; he didn’t like to be photographed, or even sit for a portrait," Blake replied while shaking his head. My brow furrowed a bit, and I reached into my left drawer for a new sheet of paper and the face book.

"Alright, guess I’ll be the first to capture him then." I flipped the book open to the first section and began. "You said he had dark hair, but what kind of eyes did he have?" Blake looked confused for a moment and I couldn’t stand it for much longer. The juxtaposition between how powerful he obviously was and how lost he seemed to be was making me dizzy, or it was the heat and the scotch.

By the end of it, I had a composite sketch and couple of starting points in mind to find this Siggy filly. She was the first step, would at least confirm if it was just an elopement like Pa Blake figured.

"So, I’ll come by first thing in the morning?" Blake asked as he stood to retrieve his discarded clothes.

"Well, I’ll most likely be asleep by then, so no." His nostrils flared and he made a step towards me.

"You said—"

"I said, ‘first thing tomorrow,’ and that’s about an hour and half from now. I’m gonna go down to Sam’s Diner for a cup and a late dinner, then I’m heading to The Edda to start questioning. If you’re gettin’ sleepy already, that’s fine, but unless The Edda serves breakfast, the time to go talk with people is now." His temper seemed to retreat just as fast as it had arrived, and he patted my back a little harder than I would have liked.

"I will not leave your side," he swore, and I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me as I locked the door behind us.


End file.
